When Qin Yuan and the other three's gazes fell on the gray-robed figure by the window, they almost simultaneously paused in their tracks.
That face was unremarkable, the kind of ordinary look that would be lost in a crowd and never be found again.
But all four of them remembered the figure in the Misty Forest yesterday, where this person, wielding a long sword, fought head-on with a grandmaster for more than ten rounds, and then calmly retreated without being at a disadvantage.
That level of confrontation was impressive and unforgettable.
Qin Yuan took the lead and walked towards Fang Han's table.
He stopped three steps away from the table, clasped his hands in a respectful greeting, and spoke in a low but clear and solemn voice:
"Senior."
Lin Qingyin, Chu Jinghong, Zhen Feixuan also approached one after another, each bowing in greeting.
There were no many words, but that gesture was enough to convey their attitude.
Fang Han raised his eyes, his gaze sweeping over the four faces, and nodded slightly. "I dare not accept such praise; I am merely slightly older than you all."
Qin Yuan didn't say anything more, but simply cupped his hands in greeting again before leading the three of them to an empty table on the other side.
The four of them sat down at a table further inside, ordered their food, and began to talk in hushed tones.
Fang Han Teacup, took a sip, and looked out at the street outside the window, finding it somewhat amusing.
If these four knew that the "senior" sitting in front of them was the one who had been cleaved in two by Qin Yuan at the Martial Arts Tournament a few months ago, one wonders what their expressions would be.
Of course, he would not intentionally reveal his identity.
The gazes that had been drawn to Qin Yuan and his group of four in the restaurant now all turned to Fang Han.
Everyone witnessed what just happened.
Although Qin Yuan and his three companions were not arrogant, they were by no means approachable. Anyone who could make them take the initiative to step forward and bow was definitely not an ordinary person.
"Who is that person? He looks completely unfamiliar."
A bearded man at the next table asked his companion in a low voice.
His companion shook his head:
"I've never seen this face before, but to earn such politeness from Qin Yuan and the other three, this person is probably no ordinary individual."
Two tables away, a thin, middle-aged man with a long face suddenly put down his wine glass and lowered his voice:
"Have you all forgotten what happened in the Misty Forest yesterday? Someone snatched a piece of Starry Ink Jade the size of a human head from a Grandmaster, and even fought the Grandmaster head-on for more than ten rounds without being at a disadvantage."
Upon hearing this, the student sitting next to him fell silent for a moment before realizing what he meant and said:
"So, this is the person?"
The thin-faced man didn't answer directly, but simply picked up his glass and took a sip, which was taken as tacit agreement.
When the people at the table looked at Fang Han, their gazes held a deeper meaning.
Not a grandmaster, yet able to fight against a grandmaster without being at a disadvantage—such a person is rare even in the Central Thirty-Six Prefectures.
Fang Han acted as if he hadn't seen it.
He picked up a piece of beef and put it in his mouth, chewing slowly, while listening to the scattered gossip circulating in the restaurant.
Most of it was just trivial gossip, like which chamber of commerce had acquired a new batch of goods, or which faction had recruited a few new disciples—just bits and pieces, nothing worth paying attention to.
He put down his chopsticks, ready to pay the bill and leave, when the two men who looked like merchants at the next table changed the subject, their voices drifting over in a moderate tone.
"Have you heard? The White Deer Merchant Association is holding an auction in three days."
Another man chimed in:
"Of course I've heard about it, and I've also heard that the items up for auction this time are extraordinary. The final few items are among the most precious of all, and one of them even contains a Middle-Grade Artistic Conception Body Movement."
"What? Middle-Grade Artistic Conception Body Movement? How could any powerful organization put something like this up for auction?"
"Because it's incomplete, only the first half is available."
"No wonder."
Fang Han's fingers, which were resting on the table, paused slightly.
Middle-Grade Artistic Conception Body Movement, but incomplete.
His current Wind God Step has reached Perfection Realm and cannot be improved further. If he wants to advance further in his Body Movement, he can only learn a higher-level Body Movement.
If he could obtain a Middle-Grade Artistic Conception Body Movement, even if it was incomplete, it would be enough to elevate his Body Movement to the next level.
He decided to stay in the city for three days to attend the auction before leaving.
"Waiter, the bill is due."
He placed a silver ingot on the table, stood up, picked up the Silver-Gray Longsword leaning against the table leg, and walked towards the stairwell.
Behind them, the conversation at the table where Qin Yuan and his three companions were sitting continued uninterrupted.
But the moment Fang Han turned around, Zhen Feixuan's gaze unconsciously fell on Fang Han's back, and she only slowly withdrew her gaze after the gray-robed figure disappeared around the corner of the stairs.
She felt there was something vaguely familiar about that figure.
"What's wrong?"
Lin Qingyin noticed her unusual behavior and turned her head to ask.
Zhen Feixuan shook her head, Teacup, and took a sip.
"It's nothing, I just felt that the senior from earlier looked somewhat familiar."
Lin Qingyin said:
"Neither of us has ever heard of this person before; you must be mistaken."
Zhen Feixuan nodded slightly and didn't reply, but that sense of familiarity still lingered in her heart, refusing to dissipate.
Three days passed in the blink of an eye.
The auction house, which occupies a vast area in the center of White Deer City, was already filled with all kinds of carriages.
Warriors dressed as Guard were scattered around in twos and threes, the outlines of weapons vaguely visible beneath their robes.
Not many people entered, but each figure exuded a powerful aura.
Fang Han stopped in front of the door and looked up to examine the magnificent three-story building.
The four characters " White Deer Merchant Association " on the gate plaque are written in a vigorous and powerful style.
He strode towards the door, where a steward in a grey shirt approached him, his gaze quickly sweeping over him.
"Sir, do you have an invitation?"
"No."
Fang Han replied.
He had already inquired and knew that he could enter even without an invitation.
The steward said:
"Sir, please understand that today's auction items are of high value and verification of funds is required for entry. We apologize for the inconvenience."
Fang Han was about to take out the silver notes from his pocket when the steward suddenly paused.
He glanced at Fang Han's extremely ordinary face, then his gaze fell on the Silver-Gray Longsword at Fang Han's waist, and his pupils contracted almost imperceptibly.
The steward bowed slightly, his tone becoming more respectful than before:
"Could it be that senior in the Misty Forest who possessed the combat power of a Grandmaster?"
Fang Han glanced at the steward, neither confirming nor denying.
The manager, as if he had already confirmed something, stepped aside to make way, lowering his voice even further:
"Please follow me, senior. There are VIP rooms on the second floor. I'll arrange them for you."
Fang Han remained silent for a moment, then nodded.
The manager gestured for Fang Han to leave, leading him around the noise of the main hall and up a narrow staircase to the second floor, where they entered a private room with a window.
The private room is small and simply furnished, but upon closer inspection, it exudes an understated elegance and offers a rare tranquility.
A low table made of century-old Phoebe zhennan wood, its grain like flowing gold, warm to the touch.
Two old rosewood official's hat chairs, draped with dark gold embroidered cloud brocade cushions.
A pot of freshly brewed tea is served in a delicate, eggshell-thin white glazed gaiwan, its steam rising gently and filling the room with a subtle fragrance.
Handmade silk gauze curtains, shrouded in mist and smoke, hung from the window; they could be lifted and drawn, creating a sense of mystery.
Every move on the auction stage downstairs was clearly visible, while all the gazes from outside were quietly blocked by the specially made thin veil, revealing nothing of what was inside.
As the steward left, he added another sentence:
"If you need anything, please just give the order to the servants at the door."
Fang Han sat down in the chair, picked up his teacup, took a sip, and looked down at the auction stage downstairs, which was about ten feet high.
Nearly a hundred people were already seated in the hall, most of them martial artists of the Third Grade or above, with the occasional presence of First Grade martial artist among them.
The auction started on time.
A middle-aged auctioneer dressed in a brocade robe walked onto the stage, said a few polite opening remarks, and then had the first item brought out for auction.
It is a 500-year-old red ginseng in excellent condition, with a starting bid of 150,000 taels.
People in the hall raised their paddles, and the price was driven up to 870,000 taels of silver before being won by a wealthy-looking man.
The second item was a Low-grade Dharma Weapon- level longsword, with a starting bid of 300,000 taels and a final sale price of 2,510,000 taels.
The third item was a bottle of Vajra Body-Tempering Pill, with a starting bid of 300,000 taels of silver, which was won by a First Grade martial artist.
One item after another was auctioned off.
Fang Han held his teacup, his gaze fixed on the auction stage. He was interested in many of the items, but he didn't participate in the bidding even once.
He had limited funds and was worried that he wouldn't be able to acquire the incomplete Middle-Grade Artistic Conception Body Movement, so he dared not participate in the auction.
The bidding in the hall rose and fell intermittently. Some people sat down with satisfaction after winning, while others raised their paddles several times but failed to win the item, and their expressions were not very pleasant.
Fang Han observed this but remained unmoved.
About an hour later, the auctioneer's voice finally changed:
"Next item."
He took a long, narrow Red Sandalwood Box from a Maid, carefully placed it on the table, and opened the lid.
Inside the box lay a yellowed animal hide book, its edges worn and showing its age, yet it remained remarkably well-preserved.
"A fragmented Middle-Grade Artistic Conception Body Movement, < Wind-Chasing Moon-Pursuing Steps >. This technique was passed down from a deceased grandmaster. Although only the first half remains, if one can comprehend it, the speed of the Body Movement will far surpass that of the Perfection Realm, Low-Grade Artistic Conception Body Movement."
The auctioneer looked up, his gaze sweeping across the audience, and his voice rose slightly.
"Starting bid: a Low-Grade Heavenly Treasure."
There was a moment of silence in the hall, followed by whispers among the people.
"As expected, we need to use rare and precious materials for bidding."
"After all, it's Middle-Grade Artistic Conception Body Movement, a precious item that can't be compared to ordinary gold or silver!"
"It's fortunate that it was incomplete; otherwise, we probably wouldn't even be eligible to bid!"
Fang Han frowned slightly, not expecting that rare and precious materials would be used as the bidding.
But thinking about it, I'm not so bothered by it anymore.
The value of Middle-Grade Artistic Conception technique far surpasses that of ordinary gold and silver, so it's normal for it to be auctioned off with equally precious natural treasures.
The main reason is that he has never participated in the auctions of the Central Thirty-Six Prefectures. If he had, he probably would have thought that rare and precious materials would be the subject of the bidding.
Fang Han felt fortunate that, apart from the rare and Recharge materials he had obtained from the secret realm, he had kept a few that he hadn't yet added to his System Panel, just in case.
I just left it there casually, but it's come in handy now.
In the hall, the auctioneer had already begun calling out bids:
"Each bid must be at least half a plant. Bidding begins now."
"One plant."
A deep voice came from the private room on the right side of the second floor.
Fang Han looked in the direction of the sound and saw that the curtain of the private room was lifted, revealing a burly man inside.
He had a rugged face, a thick-backed machete hanging at his waist, and a deep, composed aura.
"One and a half plants."
Another voice rang out, coming from the private room on the left.
He was a middle-aged man with a thin face, wearing a blue robe and holding a folding fan in his hand. He looked quite refined.
"Two plants."
"Two and a half plants."
Bidding calls rose and fell, and in no time, the price had risen to five bushels.
Fang Han put down his teacup, cleared his throat, and spoke in a voice that was neither too loud nor too soft, yet clearly pierced through the noise in the hall:
Six plants.